Swapna Das: Bridging Two Worlds
Swapna Das is a visual artist based in San Jose, California, working in drawing and ceramics. Originally from New Delhi, India, she creates abstract works that explore spirituality, resilience, and self-reflection, often influenced by Buddhist philosophies of mindfulness and impermanence. Working primarily with clay, Das embraces the tactile and unpredictable nature of the medium, transforming raw material into abstract sculptural forms that channel emotion, vulnerability, and inner strength.
How did your creative journey begin?
My creative journey began in 2002, when I formally studied painting at the College of Art, University of Delhi, India. Since then, I have explored multiple mediums—painting, printmaking, drawing, and sculpture—leading to my Master’s in Fine Arts at Arizona State University. Each step has been about experimenting, unlearning, and allowing art to be both my voice and my mirror.
You began your artistic journey in New Delhi before moving to the U.S. How have these different cultural contexts shaped your identity as an artist?
Moving from India to the United States as a young artist was a journey of both wonder and disorientation. Rooted in the storytelling traditions of my culture, I initially carried with me narratives shaped by memory and heritage. Yet, during my graduate studies, I found myself drawn to the openness of charcoal—a medium that allowed space for ambiguity, silence, and multiple interpretations. This shift transformed my practice into one that bridges two worlds: carrying the depth of Indian narratives while embracing the expansive possibilities of Western abstraction. In this dialogue between cultures, I discovered not only a new artistic language, but also a richer sense of identity.
What does a typical day in the studio look like for you, and how has your art practice grown or changed?
For me, a typical day in the studio is less about strict routine and more about navigating the ebb and flow of creative energy. My goal has always been to maintain a consistent practice, but I have come to accept that creativity is not always linear. There are days when I arrive brimming with ideas, eager to begin a new piece, and there are others when the weight of anxiety and self-doubt makes it difficult to even start. In those moments, I often give myself permission to work on something unplanned or spontaneous—marks on paper, gestures in clay, or even small experiments with form. Strangely, it is in those unguarded, expectation-free moments that my most authentic work often begins to emerge.
Looking back over the last decade, I can see a profound evolution in my practice. My early works, especially the series of charcoal drawings, were grounded in two-dimensional space, where I explored depth and emotion through gesture and shadow. Over time, I began to see those drawings not as flat images but as structures waiting to take form. This shift opened a doorway into three-dimensional thinking, and eventually clay and ceramics became the natural extension of my process. Clay has added an entirely new dimension to my work—not just physically, but conceptually. It carries weight, fragility, and permanence all at once, allowing me to push boundaries and reimagine my visual language in ways I could not have foreseen at the beginning of my journey.
Today, my studio practice feels like a dialogue between doubt and discovery, fragility and strength, two-dimensional memory and three-dimensional presence. Each piece I create becomes a testament to that ongoing process of transformation.
Clay seems to hold a central place in your current practice. What drew you to ceramics as a primary medium of expression?
After working with charcoal for many years, I reached a point where the medium no longer carried the same sense of wonder for me. What once felt magical began to feel limiting, and that restlessness led me to experiment with clay. At the time, I was also pregnant with my first child, and there was an instinctive pull toward creating in three dimensions—as if the act of building form mirrored the profound transformation happening within me.
Clay came to me naturally, offering the same joy and immediacy I once found in charcoal, but with a new sense of depth and vitality. It felt serendipitous, as though I had discovered the missing dimension my drawings had always been pointing toward. My sculptures now carry forward the essence of my charcoal works—the complex, abstract lines—yet in clay they emerge as living forms, resembling tubes, strings, and cords entangled with one another. They embody a vibrancy, a sense of movement, and at the same time reveal the fragility of human life with all its intricacies and inconsistencies.
This evolution from two-dimensional mark-making to three-dimensional structures has given me a new perspective: ceramics allows me to translate vulnerability, resilience, and interconnectedness into tangible form, while keeping alive the poetic abstraction that has always been central to my practice.
How has social media impacted your work?
Social media has impacted my work in both empowering and challenging ways. It has given me a platform to share my process and connect with a wider audience—artists, curators, and communities I might never have reached otherwise. It has also encouraged me to be more mindful about how I present my work, turning documentation into an extension of my creative practice.
At the same time, I cannot deny that social media has also shaken my confidence at times. Seeing endless streams of polished, ‘perfect’ posts has made me hesitant to share my own work, feeding self-doubt and the fear of not measuring up. Yet I have come to recognize this as another obstacle in my journey—an invitation to remain authentic and trust the value of my own voice. I now try to approach social media not as a place of comparison, but as a space of connection, growth, and possibility—where I can share the imperfections, the process, and the truth of my art.
You mention Buddhist philosophies—mindfulness, impermanence, balance—as guiding principles. How do you translate these abstract ideas into tactile, visual form?
My spiritual practice has always been at the core of my artistic journey, continuously guiding and fueling my desire to understand the true essence of art and its role in my existence. For me, spirituality and creativity are inseparable—both rooted in curiosity, reflection, and a search for meaning. The Buddhist principles of mindfulness, impermanence, and balance inform not only how I live but also how I create.
In my work, I translate these abstract ideas into tactile, visual form through organic structures that resemble tubes, strings, and cords—elements that twist, entangle, and interconnect. These forms mirror the network of human emotions, illustrating both the resilience and fragility of life. Their abstraction speaks to the complexity and inconsistency of human experience, including the vulnerable phases when one feels a loss of control.
Through my monochrome charcoal drawings and ceramic sculptures, I invite the viewer to contemplate these layers of existence. The limited palette of charcoal offers a meditative simplicity, opening a space for reflection, while clay introduces depth, weight, and physical presence. Together, they create a dialogue between the transient and the enduring. Ultimately, my work seeks to embody spirituality not as doctrine, but as lived experience—an exploration of how art can reveal the interconnectedness of human life and the continuous cycle of transformation.
What kind of emotional or spiritual experience do you hope viewers carry with them after encountering your work?
I hope that when viewers encounter my work, they experience a moment of pause—an inner stillness that invites reflection. Whether through the quiet depth of charcoal or the tactile presence of clay, my aim is to create a space where vulnerability and resilience can coexist. I want the entangled forms and abstract structures to remind them of the delicate, ever-changing nature of life, yet also of its strength and interconnectedness. Above all, I hope they carry with them a sense of mindfulness—that even within life’s chaos, there is beauty, balance, and the possibility of transformation.
“Through my work, I hope to awaken a quiet mindfulness—a recognition of the interconnectedness that binds us all.”